


Homecoming

by claudine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chocolate Box Exchange 2017, Cultural Differences, Developing Relationship, Family, Feel-good, Gift Giving, Homecoming, Intercrural Sex, M/M, POV Victor Nikiforov, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01, Soft and Cozy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9438962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudine/pseuds/claudine
Summary: “We're home,” Viktor says, his face beaming.At the end of the season, Viktor and Yuuri return to Hasetsu. It's time to rediscover the ways in which Viktor fits into Hasetsu, both old and new.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mousapelli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousapelli/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's, mousapelli!! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks to [asocialfauxpas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/pseuds/asocialfauxpas) for looking this over.

The season finishes at the tail-end of June.

Summer is in full swing, and everyone and their dogs—Makkachin included—are up and about enjoying the warmth. Viktor and Yuuri have booked flights back to Fukuoka later in the week, for when they’ve tied up all the loose ends of a completed season.

Saint Petersburg is where they live and train now, but Hasetsu is where they met each other as they were—where Viktor discovered the things that mean the most to him. He’s not letting Yuuri off easily this time. (It’s good to set a precedent and, what kind of son-in-law would be so impolite as not to visit during the holidays?! Certainly not he.)

 

“Yuuri, where are our gifts?” Viktor calls over to the living room. Makkachin is beside him, carefully sniffing the items strewn around the floor. Viktor shoves clothes in his luggage haphazardly, having never packed early for once in his life, despite notching almost two decades of shuttling around the globe. The adrenaline rush of last-minute packing works best on him. He looks mournfully at Yuuri’s bags, packed a week earlier, which seem to mock him from where they sit.

Yuuri walks in through the door, sighing. “They’re all here. I’ve packed them with bubble wrap.” He pads over to Viktor, tapping him on the shoulder, and points to the drawer space at the corner of their room. Viktor turns and smiles at him.

“You’re all prepared, aren’t you Yuuri.”

Yuuri shrugs. “Don’t want them to break in transit. You put in a lot of effort to get them. _We_ did,” Yuuri replies. His eyes are soft, smile gentle. Viktor feels his heart beat a little faster in response.

Yuuri was the one who had taught him about _omiyage_ : they’re meant to be gifts, usually food, unique to the places you’ve visited and given to your colleagues, friends, and family—a sort of communal obligation. Viktor and Yuuri have bought sweets and tea and vodka, personally hand-wrapped in tasteful glossy paper, but Viktor wants to give _things_ too, that the Katsukis can place in the inn for years to come. Matryoshka dolls and delicate lacquered boxes and decorative spoons, in between the ornate Japanese vases and cacti. Things that say, “Viktor was here”; things that affirm that he’s an important part of their lives at Yu-topia. Like a child, Viktor needs that reassurance, that tangible proof of his relationship with Yuuri and his family.

It’s somehow unsurprising that they require an extra luggage case that summer.

* * *

 

A partial list of the carefully picked gifts from the cities they’ve been to throughout the season:

  1. The aforementioned five-set of Matryoshka dolls, traditionally painted.
  2. A finely-painted [Fedoskino box](http://i.imgur.com/k65Twvu.jpg) with a slight mother-of-pearl shimmer, depicting a miniature of Ivan Tsarevich, made by a local artisan. Viktor paid handsomely for it, but the Katsukis deserve the best after all.
  3. Three sets of [a bowl and spoon](http://i.imgur.com/7vDkkwy.jpg), painted in the Khokhloma style with gold and red accents, a pleasing complement to Japanese lacquerware.
  4. Four boxes of locally-made sweets like zefir and chocolates wrapped in art-print paper.
  5. A [cloisonné jewellery container](http://i.imgur.com/WnsHQKE.jpg) in the shape of a pear, delicately painted in enamel and gold wire from Beijing.
  6. A large bag of maple cream cookies, along with several carefully-wrapped bottles of authentic maple syrup. Those were expensive and hard to get in Hasetsu, Yuuri had said. He hand-carried the bottles from Regina to Saint Petersburg wrapped in a hockey jersey, and would bring them into Hasetsu the same way.
  7. Various small jars of [hand-crafted jams](http://i.imgur.com/hpEtLR2.jpg) and preserves from Christine Ferber, Paris, festooned with a cute polkadot topper and ribbon.
  8. Three tins of Mariage Frères black tea with citrus notes. The tins will make a beautiful container, sleek black with a pale yellow sticker, after the tea has been consumed.
  9. Cheesy mug coasters depicting the Seine in the Impressionist style.
  10. Three bottles of Stoli vodka, right at the alcohol tax-free limit.



When it’s all been packed up, they have a slightly difficult time loading it all onto the cab to the airport. Just slightly.

* * *

 

The flights to Fukuoka are uneventful, if cramped. Economy has never been kind to Viktor’s legs. Its only saving grace is that he gets to press himself all along Yuuri’s side when he tries to find a comfortable position, underneath a shared blanket. Viktor unceremoniously applies extra-hydrating moisturizer on his face in the cabin’s dry air, and makes sure they get enough fluids.

Throughout the journey, Viktor’s anticipation builds. He can’t wait to see the people of Hasetsu again—Hiroko and Toshiya, Mari… Minako and the Nishigori family. Even the owner of the convenience store down the road. He has friends and family in Saint Petersburg—if Yakov counts as family, anyway—but here, in Hasetsu, was the first time he felt like he could truly relax and be himself.

They’re on the last leg of the journey home now, a two-hour train ride from Fukuoka Airport to Hasetsu. Viktor’s hand-in-hand with Yuuri beside him, the other one gently combing through Makkachin’s fur. He’s lulled into a light doze, and it’s Yuuri who wakes him up when they reach the station.

“Tired?” Yuuri says.

“A little, but I’m ready to be home,” Viktor says, and means it from the bottom of his heart.

The last time, Yuuri told him that he hadn’t expected anyone to pick him up from the station. This time, it’s Mari who’s waiting. It’s strange to see her in clothes that aren’t the Yu-topia uniform. She stubs out her cigarette and waves to them.

Mari isn’t talkative by far—she’s not a demonstrative person, but she does willingly subject herself to Viktor’s bear hug with a neutral expression. In Mari language, this seems to say “I like you quite a bit”, which makes Viktor smile. Viktor carries the conversation, Yuuri interjecting now and then, and it’s not long before they reach the inn, Minako bursting through the entryway to smother Yuuri with congratulations and affection.

“We're home,” Viktor says, his face beaming.

“Welcome home! Yuuri—you did so well!” Minako says, hugging him. In the time they’ve been away, she seems to have aged a little, and Viktor tells her so. That earns him a hard poke in the side and an evil eye. “Ladykiller Viktor Nikiforov, my ass!” Minako laughs. “That’s how I know you’re comfortable here now.”

Viktor falters for a moment, and then smiles widely. It’s true.

In the midst of the fracas, Hiroko and Toshiya bring two bowls of steaming-hot, extra-large katsudon for them. “For our champions!” Hiroko says cheerfully. The smell hits Viktor first. It’s the aroma of freshly fried breaded pork, promising a satisfying mouthfeel: crunchy on the outside, and tender juiciness when you get past the panko layer. Heavy on the stomach and delicious. Oh, he's missed the flavour of this particular home-made katsudon.

Minako calls the Nishigori family over to join the party, and Viktor opens the luggage full of gifts to distribute them to everyone.

The first tin of tea goes to Mari, with both hands. “Open it,” Viktor says. Mari closes her eyes as she inhales, and thanks him for his good taste. (She says Yuuri probably wouldn’t know how to discern between teas, a statement Yuuri doesn’t object to.)

Everyone—especially Yuuko—is delighted by the Parisian jams, cooing over the beautiful packaging. Yuuri had suggested it, and Viktor is pleased by his choice. The mini glass jars with the red toppers really do make attractive gifts, and he’s hoping Yuuri’s friends and family will come to appreciate his home tradition of adding jam to tea. (He’s already convinced Yuuri. It’s only a matter of time.)

Viktor brings out the Matryoshka dolls next, and presents them to Hiroko and Toshiya. “For Yu-topia,” he says, and is rewarded with a warm hug from the both of them. The dolls are iconic enough that they stand out amongst the other decor around the inn, arranged in a neat row at the front. “Now you’ll be reminded of me when I’m not here,” he says a little boldly, covering his words with a flirty smile.

“Of course, Vicchan,” Hiroko says, soft, her eyes kind. He hasn’t talked to the Katsuki family about his relationship with Yuuri, but Viktor thinks Hiroko has a knowing look in her eye. It makes him feel a little shy, not like an accomplished athlete nearing his thirties.

“Here are other gifts—we thought you’d like them,” Viktor says, bringing out the Khokhloma bowls and spoons. Hiroko makes a little sound of delight, fingers dancing across the painted designs. She turns the bowl this way and that, admiring the way the gold catches the light. The Fedoskino box, with its beautiful pearl shimmer, gets an even larger reaction, and Hiroko says that he _shouldn’t have spent so much on these wonderful gifts, silly child._ Viktor doesn’t know what face he’s making, but Yuuri is looking at him with such fondness that it’s sure to be a goofy expression. He doesn’t mind overly much.

Axel, Lutz and Loop pounce on the sweets, stuffing their faces. Yuuko tries valiantly to stop them but fails, while Takeshi makes sure they don’t choke. Yuuri laughs when they ask him if he’s found a girlfriend yet, and looks coyly over at Viktor. It’s all Viktor can do, gripping the bottles of Stoli tightly while trying not to grab Yuuri and pin him to the wall right now.

Finally, Minako opens the bottles of Stolichnaya and distributes the drinks to everyone’s cheers. It’s loud and boisterous, like it always is, but this time, Viktor is _someone_ to Yuuri. He’s family. The thought keeps him warm, and he laughs easily at the increasingly tipsy threads of conversation, Makkachin resting at his feet.

* * *

 

When everyone has tired themselves out, Viktor and Yuuri head off to clean themselves before soaking in the hot springs.

“I missed this,” Yuuri says, groaning as soon as he steps into the hot water. Viktor agrees. No amount of post-skate massage can compare to the relaxing heat of Yu-topia’s hot springs. The water seems to unlock every aching muscle in his body, even the old injuries, and it feels like a slice of heaven, just being here with Yuuri.

This time, it’s Yuuri who takes Viktor’s hand in the water, and they look at each other, smiling.

Afterwards, the luggage is dragged upstairs into Yuuri’s room. They settle into the very bed that Yuuri had grown up in, two overly long bodies squeezed in a single from top to toe. Viktor takes a deep breath, smelling the minty scent of Yuuri’s shampoo, and presses soft kisses to the nape of Yuuri’s neck. It feels strangely intimate. This is the first time he’s lain here like this. As Yuuri’s—“Boyfriend” seems like such a trite word. “Partner”? As much as he wants that, they’re not quite there yet. Just _Yuuri’s_ then. He smiles a little at the thought, fingers playing with the hem of Yuuri’s soft shirt.

“Tickles,” Yuuri whispers.

“Oh,” Viktor says, smooths the tips of his fingers on the offended flesh, and dips lower.

“Our walls are thin,” Yuuri says. If Viktor could see his face, his cheeks would probably be flushed hot, expression torn between arousal and annoyance. He chuckles. After a year, teasing Yuuri hasn’t gotten any less fun.

“I’ll be quiet,” Viktor says. “Like a mouse, I swear,” and noses at the hair at Yuuri’s nape. It’s grown longer in their time in Saint Petersburg, framing his face and making him look softer than before. Viktor sees it in his mind now and smiles.

“This is so strange,” Yuuri says, his voice a little breathy. Viktor’s been tracing deliberate circles just above the line of his boxers.

“What is?” Viktor asks. He bites the lobe of Yuuri’s ear gently, laughing when Yuuri shivers. He almost expects Yuuri to push him away, and is pleasantly surprised when Yuuri tilts his neck to grant him further access.

“You being here,” Yuuri says. “I mean, my walls used to be filled with posters of you. I didn’t want you to see, so I took them down.”

“I remember. You didn’t want me to sleep with you.”

“And now, it’s like all my teenage fantasies come to life, and—just stop me from talking.” Yuuri cringes away from him, and Viktor lets him. It’s not as if there’s anywhere to run between him and the wall. “Sorry.”

It doesn’t take much to pull Yuuri back into him. Viktor’s hand pulls down the elastic of Yuuri’s boxers, his fingers finding the base of his cock. He delights in the involuntary gasp Yuuri makes. His mouth latches onto the side of Yuuri’s neck, sucking hard. He wants to create a blooming red bruise. Yuuri lets out a moan, loud in the quiet of the room, and immediately stuffs a fist into his mouth.

Viktor giggles helplessly. Two grown men sneaking around their parents’ backs like teenagers. Yuuri sighs like he’s given up on life, and pulls his boxers down entirely.

“Come on then,” Yuuri says, grinding his bare ass onto Viktor’s groin. This time, it’s Viktor who makes a soft noise of pleasure. He stops slowly jerking Yuuri off to pull his pants down and toss them off the bed. He’s not wearing any underwear, and so it’s easy to slip between Yuuri’s thighs.

“Yuuri,” he calls out, voice a little wrecked.

“Wait,” Yuuri admonishes him softly. He grabs the lube from under the pillow and spreads it between his thighs, then positions himself carefully and tightens them, forming a tight space that Viktor can thrust into. “There.”

Viktor can’t help but jerk his hips a few times, trying to get the edge off. He loves having sex with Yuuri, but it’s not always quite this frantic. It’s being here—in Yuuri’s boyhood home, in the room he grew up in, the room where he daydreamed, the room where he might have thought of Viktor and jerked off, that fills him with the need to fuck Yuuri. Like being intimate with Yuuri _here_ means he’s being let into the secret, soft parts of Yuuri. Viktor wants to kiss Yuuri all over, make him moan and cry out and claim him.

Sometimes he wonders how he got so lucky. He could have missed out on this entirely. This love that he feels deeply for Yuuri, burning and yet tender; the love he feels for Yu-topia and Yuuri’s family, who have been nothing but welcoming to him; the joy of rediscovering his love for skating through new avenues of expression.

Viktor holds Yuuri close, his mouth back on the same spot on his neck, and his cock slips between the tight channel of Yuuri’s slick thighs. Yuuri is breathing hard, his own hand stripping his cock. He makes a little gasp every time Viktor thrusts in right under his balls.

“Yuuri, you’re so cute,” Viktor moans. He’s always had a weakness for Yuuri’s thighs. They’re strong and lean, and he imagines they could break his neck when he’s sucking Yuuri off; they grip him firmly when he’s thrusting between them. He’s close now.

“Coming,” Yuuri chokes out, his thighs tightening as he speaks, and lets go. Viktor isn’t far behind.

Yuuri laughs, unexpectedly. “That was better than any fantasy I had.”

“I’m glad I lived up to your expectations, Yuuri,” Viktor says, a hint of smugness in his voice. Yuuri turns around to kiss him soundly, tongue curling around his, a thread of spit joining their mouths as he pulls free.

“Maybe not this part. Fantasy you was always gracious about everything,” Yuuri says. Viktor makes a mock-angry face and tackles Yuuri into the wall, tickling him. Yuuri can’t help but squeal, with Viktor laughing freely and loudly. They forget to be quiet.

They’re sticky with sweat and come, and Viktor uses the bottom of his shirt to clean them up to the best of his ability.

 

Coming home to Hasetsu fills Viktor with such happiness and wonder, it feels like he could burst. Occasionally, it mellows into a humming contentment. It's _belonging_. He wants to keep the feeling close for as long as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> If I've missed any glaring mistakes, feel free to let me know. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://johanen.tumblr.com/)!


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